An Unconventional Last Resort
by kearlyn
Summary: Sara suggests an unconventional way of getting Neal home. Post White Collar 3.16. Crossover with Leverage.


**An Unconventional Last Resort**

**a white collar/leverage crossover**

**Rating: **K

**Fandoms: **White Collar (post-3.16), Leverage (no spoilers past 1.03, because that's as far as I've watched)

**Summary: **Sara suggests an unconventional way of getting Neal home. Post _White Collar_ 3.16. Crossover with _Leverage_.

**Disclaimer: **Neither _White Collar_ nor _Leverage_ belong to me. No profit is being made from this work of fiction.

* * *

It's been three months, two weeks, five days, 17 hours, and 42 minutes since the commutation-that-wasn't when Sara calls.

"Peter," she says, sounding breathless and happy for the first time since that day. "Peter, I know how we can get Neal back."

* * *

Peter meets Sara at a small park several blocks from the federal building. He hasn't seen her in person since the day he came to her office to tell her Neal was gone. It stays with him, the memory of her face when he broke the news. The way she had slumped inwards, the triumph of their scheme with the Raphael draining away as she bent under the magnitude of what Kramer had taken from them.

The stress of the past three months is still evident. Sara looks tired; there are new creases on her forehead and the edges of her down-turned mouth, and even her perfectly applied make-up can't hide the shadows under her eyes.

Peter doesn't judge. He imagines he looks just as terrible. Neal meant – _means_ – a lot to both of them.

But for all the weariness in Sara's face, there is a sparkle in her eyes, a tiny, flickering ember of hope.

"I found it," she says the instant Peter is within range of her bench. "I found a way to bring him home."

"Sara," Peter sighs, settling onto the bench next to her. "We've already tried everything."

And they had. Petitions, and debates, and motions, and proposals. They'd fought the board, the Department of Justice, OPR, and anyone else that made noise against them or Neal. They'd spent hours combing through legal documents and calling in favours.

They hadn't gotten anywhere.

For all that everyone had been open, _in theory_, to recognizing extenuating circumstances and mountains of carefully crafted arguments, they'd categorically refused to consider it in Neal's case. Kramer had too much power and he wanted Neal.

"This will work," Sara says. "It will, Peter."

Peter shifts, turning to face her. There's desperation in her face and in her voice, but there's also hope and conviction.

Against his better judgement, Peter feels that ember of hope spark within his chest.

Sara is desperate, but she also _believes_ that whatever she's come up with will work.

And for all that they've spent the last three months tilting at windmills, Sara's never been one for self-deception or desperate faith in impossible solutions. She wouldn't be mentioning this unless they had a real chance.

"We've already tried everything," Peter repeats, but he sounds less confident.

"Everything legal," Sara says.

And Peter sees the possibilities. They've tried everything the law has to get Neal back (without allowing Kramer to get his claws into Neal) and nothing's worked.

"I know it's not really your thing, breaking the law," Sara says.

_But it is_, Peter thinks, remembering all the rules he's bent or outright broken for Neal. That last moment when he'd met Neal's eyes and told him to run.

"-not entirely illegal, but definitely in the grey area of the-"

"I'm in," Peter says.

Sara stops, staring at him with her mouth hanging open.

"I'm in," Peter says. "Whatever it is, I'm in. Let's do it. Let's bring Neal home."

* * *

Late that night, Peter sits at his kitchen table staring at the small, off-white rectangle of cardstock sitting innocuously in front of him.

The front bears only the words "Leverage Consulting & Associates" in dark letters. In the same elegant font, a phone number, and only a phone number, is written on the card's back.

Peter's been staring at this little rectangle paper of possibility for several hours now, working his way through a bottle of beer while he contemplates what Sara told him.

"Are you coming to bed anytime soon?" El asks from behind him, making him jump.

He twists to look at her, leaning against the door frame of their living room dressed only in a thin nightdress.

"Soon," he says. "I just want to make a decision about…" He gestures helplessly to the little rectangle.

El gives him a small, tired smile. The last few months have been hard on her too, he knows.

"What's to decide?" she says. She steps over and wraps her arms around Peter, kissing him on the jaw. "I know you'll do the right thing."

"The right thing," Peter echoes hollowly. "Yeah."

She sighs, her warm breath tickling over Peter's skin.

"Come to bed soon, hon," she says as she detangles herself.

Peter nods. "Goodnight hon," he says, looking back down at the card.

He hears El's footsteps pad towards the stairs, then stop.

"Peter," she says.

He twists again to meet her eyes.

"Bring him home," she says. She walks away without waiting for his response.

Peter blinks twice, then turns back to the table and picks up the card.

"Smartest woman in the world," he mutters, sliding a slim cellphone out of his pocket. It's not his FBI issue phone; that one is upstairs with his badge and his gun. This one is a burner phone he'd bought on the way home.

He doesn't want his work anywhere near what he's about to do.

He flips on the phone and punches in the number of the back of the card.

The phone picks up after two rings, and a husky male voice greets him with a tired "hello".

Peter takes a deep breath and plunges into the abyss.

"Mr. Ford," he says, "I have a job for you and your team."

For the first time in months, he's smiling.

* * *

**End Notes: **I desperately wanted a fix-it for _White Collar _3.16 Judgement Day, and while I was waiting for season 4, I started watching _Leverage_. This was kind of inevitable from there.

Assuming the plot comes together, there may be a sequel in the works…


End file.
